


Dragonskin

by BreadD



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Historical Fantasy, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pixies, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Wyverns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreadD/pseuds/BreadD
Summary: Just a prompt story i wanted to write, but it grew a little bigger than I expected.Inspired by @writing.prompt.s on Instagram;You’re a dragon that is cursed to change into a human every night. One day a knight comes to slay you, and imagine their surprise when the dragon they're about to stab vanishes in a puff of smoke, leaving a defenseless human crouched in front of them.
Kudos: 3





	Dragonskin

===========

The heavy steel presses against his shoulder, making the climbing even harder. Sharp stones scratch the palms of his hands even with leather gloves protecting the delicate skin. He dropped his leg armour ages ago, doesn’t need it. He has done this thousands of times. Travelling the world, fetching the rarest and most expensive item in the whole Europe. The one thing that can heal any physical trauma, be used as a protection and if you can trust the rumours, the Norse Witch itself uses it. What is it, you may ask. 

_Dragonskin._

One of the hardest materials in the known existence. No regular spear or a sword can cut the skin of those mythical creatures. It feels like steel, but it’s heavier but still flexible. It shines in bright colours, a different hue from every angel. One small piece of it makes everyone in every town want to be your friend. They almost drool over it. But he doesn’t blame them. It would basically fix their own, their children and their grandchildren's lives. But it’s a whole another view when you see the creature to whom the skin belongs to. The small scales covering its body and moving with the muscles look even more colourful. It looks like flames in its skin. No matter the size of the creature, it’s always mind blowing to see one breathing, heart still pumping blood to it’s veins and standing in all of its glory.

It’s a shame there’s not many left anymore. Humans' ignorance and their egoistic tendencies killed almost all of them. It’s sad. Many fear them, many despise them and some believe that the Demon himself created them to roam the lands destroying innocent human beings. It’s ridiculous.  
The knight, named River, gets on top of the stony cliff. He sighs and wipes the sweat from his neck. Cursing to himself he takes off his helmet. Drips of sweat start to fall from the tip of his crooked nose and strands of red hair are stuck flat against his forehead. His chainmail cowl shines in the direct sunlight. 

“God’s bones, Danyel. I am going to hang thee like a witch the hour I get back” River puts his helmet back and starts to head towards the far away castle ruins where one of the mightiest creatures lures it’s treasures. 

===========

The sun is starting to set when River finally approaches the castle. It’s not the most ideal time to slay creatures, but like humans most of them sleep at night. It's the perfect time to sneak up on them. Sometimes it doesn’t even need a fight before the creature is down. It’s a twisted kind of mercy, when it doesn’t feel anything. 

There are no doors in the opening of the castle. Either those are rotten away or the creature ate them. River creeps inside, being clad he dropped the extra armour. If he hadn’t he would wake the creature and the nearby villages. He draws his longsword from his belt. He has to be careful, it’s almost as sharp as the creature's teeth. It’s made of steel, but covered with phoenix dust so it’s almost unbreakable. It’s one of a kind, only two swords like this have been ever made. It is almost as dark as the shadows inside the castle. When you cut someone's throat with it, the blood doesn’t appear on it. Some people have referenced it as ‘the midnight slayer’. Quite accurate but boring, so Danyel and River gave it a name Unzig, after the first wyvern it was killed with. These kinds of swords don't spear through a creature's skin, but it can do a lot of damage in soft spots, like it’s eyes, mouth or under the chin. 

As quiet as he can, River reaches the main hall. It’s almost untouchable. Three thrown seats rise high up to the ceiling and three different sizes of crowns sit on top of them. They don’t have any dust in them. Did he come to the right place? 

Before he can question any longer giant footsteps are heard from the other side of the hall. In a panic River hides behind one of the giant pillars which is trying to keep the remainder of the ceiling up. Nothing appears in a minute but as the steps get closer, he peaks from his hiding place and his jaw drops to the floor. 

It’s magnificent. Monstrously huge and it carries itself like no other creature River has ever seen. It’s definitely a wyvern but it’s as huge as a normal dragon would be. Maybe even bigger. It might breathe toxins rather than fire, so he needs to be extra careful. It shines unnaturally in the sundown. It’s base colour seems to be blue, but greens and violets reflect from it. Zero scratch on it’s skin makes it even more majestic. It feels almost untouchable. 

Regarding its size, many would think it’s already almost at its natural dead-bed. But according to its horns, it’s young, very young. Young adult, maybe three hundred years old. He can’t even imagine how big it would get when it reaches its peak potential. 

River doesn’t wanna take this beautiful creature's life. It’s the same conflict with every creature he’s slain. But it’s skin would heal every last person in Britain. Young wyverns' healing ability is three times more powerful than the older ones. And when almost all of the younglings are gone, this is a treasure. 

He’s waiting for the right moment of the wyverns blind spot to attack, but he’s interrupted when the sun hides behind the mountains and the wyvern roars. It’s not to frighten, it’s rather a cry from pain. Heartbreaking and emotional. It closes its eyes and rests its head in front of the thrones. River lowers his sword. He hasn’t seen any wyvern behave like this. Usually they’re tricky and just downright annoying. Trying to rip and toxinate your skin with their sharp claws and breath. But this one is different. From it’s behaviour, it should be classified as a dragon. 

A sudden blue bright light dazzles River; he almost drops Unzig. It left his sight pure white for a moment. He squats down to be as small as possible. Hoping that it wasn’t an attack. But it’s only silence. The hall is dead silent. Even the wyverns breathing has stopped.

Once his sight clears River jumps up and peaks where the wyvern is, or was. It’s gone. _Oh no._ River steps into the sight. It’s nowhere to be seen. It just vanished into a thin air. Unless it’s creeping somewhere ready to rip him into pieces. But it's too big for that. He scans the shadows in the hall before behind him where the thrones are, something creeks. He spins around but doesn’t see anything. Slowly he starts walking towards the sound. Maybe it’s just a rat, he thinks. Or did the wyvern shrink itself somehow? _This is madness._ Maybe he should just go, tell Danyel that there wasn't a creature or that it just took off. 

Something moves in the shadow behind one of the thrones. It’s definitely not a rat, it’s bigger. Tightening the grip in his sword, moving around the throne to possibly see what’s behind it. A new sweat starts to form in Rivers' back. It’s so silent. Only his footsteps are echoing. And then when he’s almost at an angle when he could see the thing, something jumps on him. It rips Unzig out of his hand, tossing it aside. River falls back, making him an open target. The thing is now on top of him, ripping the helmet off. River smacks his fist- somewhere. It makes a noise and withdraws. But at the same time taking the helmet with it. 

River crawls away from the thing, trying to find his sword. Once he finds it, he jumps up and turns to the thing. Or _him_. It’s a human male. Naked one, curled up into a ball, River’s helmet beside- him. Something yellow drips from his mouth. Now that River looks closely there’s a small puddle of it under the others head. It looks awfully similar to _wyvern's blood._

No way the wyvern- it’s impossible. River shakes his head trying to process this human in front of him. It or he or whatever has a pale and silky smooth skin. It looks soft. His hair black, almost as black as Unzig. It almost looks blue in the moonlight.

The blackhead lifts his head to look at River. A slight panic takes over his face as he jumps away from the knight. He even moves like a wyvern, all smug and quick but considered movements. 

“ _Trickster!_ ” 

River’s hand goes to his ears, which are exposed. His cowl must have fallen at some point. Explaining the blackheads reaction. _Trickster_ one of many mock names for pixies. Though not the worst he has heard. Not many, especially humans don’t like them. Pixies are known for their nasty behaviour. Tricking lonely travellers to rob them, seduce them or just make them _disappear_. River doesn’t agree with that, so he lives with humans now. Little hypocritical. 

The boy still tries to crawl away from him. Not many creatures like pixies either. Can’t blame them. River holsters his sword and unties the cloak from his waist. It was too hot to wear it so he retained it there. Slowly he starts to make his way to the boy, being as unthreatening as possible. “Hey, everything is fine. I am not going to hurt thee” Hopefully the boy understands him. 

He stops to study River, trying to find some threat. He flinches but doesn’t run away when River squats besides him, flinging the cloak over the boy's shoulders. His eyes are unnaturally green and his pupils keep expanding and shrinking. Until they settle and stop. It’s weird, same thing that sirens do when they suffice from the depths of the sea. Trying to settle their eyes for the sudden sunlight. 

River steps back to give him space. He turns his attention to the blood beside him, takes off his glove and dips his finger to the liquid. He takes a closer look at it, definitely wyverns blood. River’s been covered in this thing more times than a normal person is supposed to. He can identify it in his dreams. 

“Are ye ‘ere to slaughter me?” A highlander. Makes sense, most of the wyvern packs live in the north part of Britain. 

“I was, but not anymore” River answered truthfully. Better to be honest, but he doesn’t want to scare the boy away. Would be a great loss.  
“Um, how did thee-” River gestures to the boy, trying to find the right word “-metamorphosed?” 

The blackhead hugs himself inside the cloak and lowers his gaze. “It’s a lang story” he takes a look at the thrones. Three thrones, a wyvern turning into a boy reminds River of something. Distant memory when he still lived with the pixies. 

“Thou art the boy from the fairytale”

“Fairytale?” The boy's eyebrows are knit together in confusion. 

“An old folktale about a wyvern turning into a human every night. It's usually used to scare little pixies so as not to wander around castle ruins.” He used to be scared of castle ruins and wyverns himself. Pixies haven’t always been that friendly with the specific creatures. 

“A folktale? I've bin lik' this only aboot a three years” He moves some strains of hair from his eyes. River has to research this thing more. Danyel may know a few books about folktales. He should start to get going as soon as possible. No dragonskin tonight. “The night is starting to settle, I have to return to my town.” The blackheads' eyes glow green with a hint of purple. 

Getting up, River picks up his helmet and sweeps the dust out of it. He checks his sword and tightens his belt. He considers coming back. He needs to see this half human half wyvern again. He has to be kept safe. Out there are some evil people who would gladly take him and either sell him, put him on a pedestal to everyone to see and laugh or make him do things he doesn’t want to. 

“Keep the cloak, I can receive another” River doesn’t want to leave. Left the boy alone in the dark. He looks so young. So inexperienced. So vulnerable. A rush of emotion to protect this boy overthrows River. Although in the daylight he’s a magnificent beast who can rip someone into pieces with one claw. He’s not going to leave the boy alone. It’s a pixie thing, getting suddenly attached to somebody like this. That’s what usually happens when they pick someone off the road. River hasn’t experienced this feeling in years. Last time when he was just 13. It was a beautiful young woman riding her white stallion. Her silky blue robe flowed in the sunset almost magically around her. It’s the same feeling he has about this- kid. _Christ’s fingernails._

“What-” River’s throat feels dry “What is thou name?” 

The kid looks a bit confused. Not sure if to trust this pixie knight who just tried to slaughter him. He takes a look around, trying to find the answer. He doesn’t find it and turns his gaze back to River. He feels the tips of his ears heating up from the pure intensity of the kids stare. It feels like standing in front of a tremendous dragon, challenging the size of king’s and queen’s palaces and God’s sanctuaries. Something not scary but marvellous, something so ethereal. Beautiful and something no one is allowed to trouble. 

The boy squints his eyes.

“Bieto”

===========


End file.
